Travel Journal
On the Way to the National Parks
(with Side Trips Along the Way)
Part II
October 2019
By Sandra Bertrand
(Note to readers: The key players in our road journey from Seattle (besides myself) are Joanne, my partner and a high school teacher by profession, Nettie, an actress, and Annaville, a writing teacher (both Dutch residents from Amsterdam and longtime friends.)
Our Jeep Grand Cherokee was waiting for us at Seatac the next morning with one caveat: four pieces of luggage, bigger than carry-on airline size, had to fit in the rear compartment. After enough deliberation worthy of a chess tournament, we succeeded with the load, and we were ready to roll…onward to our next destination.
Our Jeep Grand Cherokee was waiting for us at Seatac the next morning with one caveat: four pieces of luggage, bigger than carry-on airline size, had to fit in the rear compartment. After enough deliberation worthy of a chess tournament, we succeeded with the load, and we were ready to roll…onward to our next destination.
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Sequim and Olympic National Park
Now is probably the best time to bring up the importance of early planning for a trip any longer than an hour’s train ride out of New York City’s Penn Station. In a country of almost 350 million inhabitants, the draw to the mountains and valleys, from sea to shining sea, can be irresistible. When wanderlust strikes the work-weary in July-August, reservations - especially for the national parks - can be at a premium. Quite frankly, we got lucky. March was probably six months later than we should have grown serious. As seasoned travelers, we have found ample research and a willingness for a certain degree of risk highly rewarding. Sequim (pronounced “Skwim”) derives from an Indian word meaning “a place for going to shoot.” That was not our intention, but it was there, in that community of 6,606 inhabitants, that we found Williams Manor. Less than a mile from the entrance to the park, the internet pictures made it look like a picturesque haven for a PBS series with respectable country folk. |
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Mark, our effusive Air B&B host, still maintains the kind of boyish charm and good looks that allowed him to slide into middle age with nary a wrinkle. He showed us the grounds, where a profusion of blooming plants met the eye, and beyond the crab apple trees, a bald eagle’s nest. Introductions were made with his dog Bobo, a large Akita that half-lunged over an adjacent fence to greet us. A former chef and entrepreneur, Mark had stocked the refrigerator with milk, juices, and a platter of chanterelle tarts. The house had a lived-in, “woodsy” coziness about it, right down to an oversized family Bible in the foyer.
Our own list of provisions included several bottles of Columbia County’s Sauvignon Blanc, assorted cheeses, cherries and nectarines, a half-pound of ground dark roast coffee, and a loaf of dark rye which we picked up during a brief stop earlier in Poulsbo. A short detour on our trip to the Peninsula, it’s a quaint little town once home to a 90% Norwegian populace. We managed to find an “Instant Viking” cap with thick blond braids and horns in a local “five and dime” on Front Street.
Traveler’s Tip: If you plan to visit the Olympic Peninsula from Seattle by car, and you want to avoid a long wait on the Washington Ferries, I recommend taking Highway 5 South toward Tacoma, eventually connecting via Route 3 northwards, ending on Highway 101 to Sequim, tucked into the northern rim of the Peninsula.
Our own list of provisions included several bottles of Columbia County’s Sauvignon Blanc, assorted cheeses, cherries and nectarines, a half-pound of ground dark roast coffee, and a loaf of dark rye which we picked up during a brief stop earlier in Poulsbo. A short detour on our trip to the Peninsula, it’s a quaint little town once home to a 90% Norwegian populace. We managed to find an “Instant Viking” cap with thick blond braids and horns in a local “five and dime” on Front Street.
Traveler’s Tip: If you plan to visit the Olympic Peninsula from Seattle by car, and you want to avoid a long wait on the Washington Ferries, I recommend taking Highway 5 South toward Tacoma, eventually connecting via Route 3 northwards, ending on Highway 101 to Sequim, tucked into the northern rim of the Peninsula.
Sequim is known for its annual lavender festival, when 40 lavender farms in the area show their fragrant wares. It’s also home to the Dungeness National Wildlife Refuge. Mark had suggested that we pick up crabs at the local supermarket, but by the time we arrived, we were out of luck. Seafood enthusiasts like ourselves don’t give up easily, though. We didn’t find the fabled crabs for our dinner, but we did track down the Mariner Café in town, a friendly no-nonsense diner that featured respectable fish and chips on the menu.
In the morning we enjoyed a relaxed breakfast in our adopted dining room. Nettie had set the table with the flourish of a theatrical set-designer, and we listened happily to the chirping of Washington State’s bluebirds. Such a formal sit-down luxury, carried out several times during our journey, could mean a late-morning start to the day’s adventures. Any impatience to “get up and go” was better kept in check. To Nettie’s credit, we were on vacation after all - easing into a slower pace was good for all of us.
In the morning we enjoyed a relaxed breakfast in our adopted dining room. Nettie had set the table with the flourish of a theatrical set-designer, and we listened happily to the chirping of Washington State’s bluebirds. Such a formal sit-down luxury, carried out several times during our journey, could mean a late-morning start to the day’s adventures. Any impatience to “get up and go” was better kept in check. To Nettie’s credit, we were on vacation after all - easing into a slower pace was good for all of us.
After combing our Triple A map, a discussion ensued about what part of the Park to explore first. As we headed westward toward the main Visitors Center, we still had grandiose plans for covering most if not all the 200 miles of trails of the forest spread before us. My National Parks annual senior pass (obtained for $30 online) would let a car of four into as many parks as we could manage. I highly recommend it. In the course of the entire trip, we were in and out of various park entrances enough times that we saved a few hundred dollars with the card. The Visitors Center clerk, spreading her own map across the counter and determining the length of our stay, wisely advised a drive to Crescent Lake with a short hike to nearby Marymere Falls for our first outing.
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After securing a parking place adjacent to the lodge - an historical structure built in 1916 as a gift from Roosevelt’s WPA - we indulged in a bowl of seafood chowder in the main dining room to strengthen resolves for the hike. As I had anticipated, it proved to the others to be picturesque but a bit steep. I was relieved (and so was my recovering knee) for my choice to stay behind.
Finding a bench front and center of that gorgeous twelve-mile turquoise body of water, with stands of Sitka spruce, Douglas fir and western red cedar covering the surrounding mountainsides, the poetic side of my nature was set free. A pair of canoe paddlers, a determined dog walker, even a little boy casting pebbles repeatedly into the current at water’s edge, were no more than punctuation marks on an empty page. The lake was so vast and placid that it seemed capable of absorbing any and all human disturbance. “Hello again, writer!” The stalwart Albanian women who had eavesdropped on our prior lunch conversation, sat down beside me. It seemed my writing ambitions were over for the moment. She was set on a political discussion and women’s place in the world at large. I valiantly tried to accommodate her, dividing my attention between the majestic sight in front of me and her rantings. I finally rose, professing a need for shade, and managed to secure a seat on the lodge veranda. Soon after, the three hikers returned, and we were ready to head for home. |
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The next morning, breakfast preparations underway in true European fashion, we settled into our new home, pretending for a while we had nowhere to go. But we did, of course. We were bound for Rialto, also known as Mora Beach, on the western coast of the Park. This section of coastline is home primarily to the Quileute Indians, who have occupied the area for thousands of years.
We didn’t see the Quilete People, but the beach was a gorgeous sight, the surf rough, resounding in our ears with each crash of the waves. It was low tide and we ogled the largest piece of kelp I’ve ever laid eyes on. Its mass protruded upwards like a giant tangled sea creature, bulbous appendages flung outwards from the tide. Signs skirting the sand warned of “Tsunamis possible with little warning.” Another sign warned of fallen logs carried ashore from the arms of the ocean, bringing death to the unwary. Giant fallen trees were strewn across the upper beachline, transformed over time into monstrous yet beautiful driftwood logs. Finding a deserted picnic table nearby, we unpacked a cooler full of cheese and fruit and cold beverages, wanting only to drink in all that incomparable beauty. |
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A drive of perhaps 15 miles separated us from the Hoh Rain Forest, our next stop. The glacier-fed Hoh River feeds the forest valley, sustained by 12 to 16 feet of rainfall per year, not including the 30 inches of tree drip from the fog condensation in the canopy. Self-guided walks are available from the Hoh Visitor Center, and we chose the Hall of Mosses trail. It was well marked, laden with glistening wet patches of moss on almost every branch surface, with vines curling every which way through the trek. The footing was slippery, and in high July season, it’s smart to hug the edges of the trail, letting the rambunctious preteen set jog through. It was hard to determine whether the falling mist was a precursor to a late afternoon rain or not. All I knew was that I had entered a kind of primordial dreamscape and the scream of a tyrannosaurus rising through the treetops seemed entirely plausible.
Back in Sequim, we found the Fortune Star Chinese Restaurant on the main strip of town and were quite happy to sample the local Mandarin and Thai fare. Seafood curries and jade scallops lightly tossed with baby corn, water chestnuts and string beans in a special brown sauce fit the bill. What I didn’t try was “Ants Climbing a Tree,” a Mnungbean noodle dish with minced pork. Perhaps a different marketing approach was in order. |
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We’d tried to locate the John Wayne marina on our way back for a last-ditch attempt for the illusive Dungeness crab, but the marina was closed shut for the evening. The film actor had donated his land years earlier for others to enjoy his favorite fishing spot.
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Our third day was reserved for Hurricane Ridge. It involved a hairpin climb to the top for a famed view of the most famous mountain ring in the park and a “sight to behold,” we’d been advised. More than 5,200 feet above sea level, the road features a 7-percent grade, while the ridge features a visitor’s center from which viewers can aim their binoculars and cameras at the mountain peaks beyond. We ambled around the gift shop, and I managed to purchase a book of naturalist John Muir’s musings on nature. Outside, a coven of ravens hopped back and forth on the railing, flapping their sizable wings while searching for handouts. There was little conversation because our words were lost to the beauty that lay before us.
On the steep downgrade of green, we spotted a black-tailed deer and tried to immortalize her on our I-phones before she disappeared into the brush. There’s a pull to such places - whether they are sanctioned by a national park or just another turnout on a scenic byway. You feel the silence rising within you and long for the quiet to hold. You know you are only one of many, but the place becomes a kind of sanctuary for those of us who are still listening for John Simon’s “Sounds of Silence.” |
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On our last night in Sequim, we dined at Paloma, and as Nettie professed her ignorance of Mexican food, Joanne and I scrambled to explain the popular choices, with a healthy assortment of enchiladas featured. Mexican food has been equanimous to our American diet, but exotic to our friend. I felt in this instance, and later in our trip, we were making a culinary convert out of her.
It was hard saying goodbye to Sequim. I remember standing on the rear deck of the house the next morning, looking at the well-groomed grass, the grill we had never used, and wanting another day. We raised our coffee cups in a toast, reminded by our Dutch friends that a toast was not a toast if you didn’t look the toaster straight in the eye. “How could Yellowstone be better than Hurricane Ridge?” Annaville asked. “Just wait,” Joanne said. “You’ll see.” **Coming in November: Stay tuned for Part III of "On the Way to the National Parks" as Sandra and company head to Yellowstone National Park and Grand Tetons National Park.
Sandra Bertrand is an award-winning playwright and painter. She is Chief Art Critic for Highbrow Magazine and a contributing writer for GALO Magazine. Sandra was Sanctuary's Featured Artist in May 2019 and is also Sanctuary's columnist for "Travel Journal."
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INFORMATION FOR PLACES OF INTEREST Williams Manor LLC 4043 Sequim Dungeness Way Sequim, WA (360) 460-3763 Mariner Café 609 West Washington Street Sequim, WA Fortune Star Chinese Restaurant 145 East Washington Street Sequim, WA Las Palomas 1085 East Washington Street Sequim, WA Lake Crescent Resort Lodge 416 Lake Crescent Road Olympic National Park, WA (360) 928-3211 Olympic National Park 3002 Mt. Angeles Road Port Angeles, WA |
